


The Gag, The Bind, The Ammunition Round

by petitpavot



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Character Study, Mania, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitpavot/pseuds/petitpavot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brace had been a cage, absolutely, but it must have been much smaller than she once thought because Dee feels as if she’s going to burst without it holding her in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gag, The Bind, The Ammunition Round

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _"What is this posture_   
>  _I have to stare at_   
>  _That's what he said when I'm sittin' up straight"_   
> 
> 
> Alright folks, I haven't written fic since the days of House/Wilson on livejournal so please be kind. Title is from Fiona Apple's "Not About Love" which is a glorious manic explosion and you should totally listen to it. Infinite thanks to the work of biohazardgirl for introducing me to the world of a bipolar Dee Reynolds because my life is better for having her. 

The brace was a cage.

 

She had been saying it for years, complaining, always chasing the taunts of “Aluminum Monster” saying “When I get out of this god damn cage…” It never went any further than that, never had to. All she knew is that once the brace was off, she would be free. She would be kissed in public because she would be hot, go out with Bill Ponderosa and keep your lunch down kind of hot. She’d be an actress, on her way to college and make Dennis so jealous it made him sick. She couldn’t remember when their lives became a competition, but now that it was god damn it she was going to win.

Because if she won, she would be happy, Dee was sure of that. If she finally won something then there wouldn’t be any more “bad days”. Three days in bed because she was certain her feet would shatter when they hit the floor, three more to see if anyone noticed, two when nobody did and God knows how long when she finally emerged only to hear her mother say “Well you look like shit but at least you lost some weight.”

Two weeks before she moves out, six days since the brace was taken off and things are going to plan. They’re going better than planned because Dee is not just good she is fantastic. 

The brace had been a cage, absolutely, but it must have been much smaller than she once thought because Dee feels as if she’s going to burst without it holding her in. There’s electricity under her skin and words flowing from her mouth, half the time it doesn’t matter if nobody’s listening because maybe someone out there is? There has to be someone.

She’s taking advantage of the new body, going on morning runs, memorizing new monologues, she steals Barbara’s credit card one afternoon and buys new clothes, no longer having to accommodate the size of the brace, size double zero take that Dennis and Mom and even stupid Ingrid Nelson. She’s never felt at home in her body and still she floats outside of it as men buy her drinks in skeezy bars and take her home to equally skeezy apartments but their desire has to count for something right?

She walks up to the front door at night, can hear Dennis, Mac and Charlie drinking in the back yard and she refuses to feel lonely. She is making something of herself, she is becoming who she was meant to be. 

She grabs a drink, or sometimes a bottle and goes up to her room with a few hours before dawn. She writes in her journal, paces the room and falls asleep like blinking, then it’s morning again.

 

One of these days while lying on a towel in the sun, she realizes that nobody has seen her without the brace so she throws back a few shots (for confidence of course, and Dennis said she was talking a little fast so maybe this will slow her down and hell maybe she’ll just take the bottle, it’s nice to bring gifts when you’re visiting.)

She’s in the car, tires screaming out of the driveway and maybe she’s screaming a little too because it’s all very exciting and honestly, it’s not that weird when a bunch of girls yell in excitement together so what’s that weird about someone doing it alone?

She makes it to the end of the street, slamming the brakes to a full stop when she realizes she doesn’t know where anyone lives. There were no slumber parties, no boyfriends' houses when parents were out. The parties that she went to blur together and anyways, she’s too drunk to remember now.

So she’ll start the car again, drive to Lemon Hill, where nobody will recognize her and she’ll surprise everyone. Dee hardly recognizes herself these days, she spends almost as much time as Dennis does in front of the mirror staring at a face that doesn’t feel like her own. She checks her reflection in her side mirror, eyes wide, the muscles of her jaw clenched in full flight or fight. She looks like a crazy person, she’s starting to feel like one too. 

There’s a paper bag in the back seat so she throws the vodka in there, drinking it like water, like it’s a cure for whatever it is that’s taken over her brain because something has gone wrong again and suddenly it’s all too fast. But there’s still hope, if she can just pull it together now she’ll leave people talking, they’ll forget the brace, forget Aluminum Monster, forget anything but the picture she’ll show them today she just has to fucking keep it together for five seconds god dammit.

Nobody is on the hill, the sun is starting to set. At that moment she realizes the world has already moved on without her, they don’t care about the fate of the Aluminum Monster, much less about Deandra Reynolds.

She smashes the vodka bottle and starts running. Runs until her lungs scream, till she can run straight again, till the sky is black and the speed of her body matches the never ending speed of her mind. 

She finds herself at the top of her street where Dennis stands at the edge of the long driveway smoking a cigarette. He looks at her, takes in the sight of her destroyed sandals and tangled hair.

“Where’s the car?”

“Left it at Lemon Hill, too drunk to drive it home I guess”

Dennis takes another drag and looks at her, like he’s really seeing her, like he’s seen her all along despite the jabs and the competition, the rivalry and the bullshit.

“Just pick it up before Mom wakes up or she’ll lose it”

Dee laughs “At least that’ll give me some time”

Dennis joins the laughter and Dee pushes back the memories that rise of trying to rouse a practically unconscious Barbara on Mother’s Day to bring her breakfast in bed while Frank yelled at the housekeeper for letting them into the kitchen in the first place.

“Get some sleep Dee, you’re getting some serious bags under your eyes.”

“When was the last time you slept?” she retorts, guard up, ready for the next fight.

“Don’t need to, my body has reached a standard of excellence where sleep is merely an afterthought.” Dennis is smug, as if his previously stated “concern” was simply another reminder of his superiority.

“Dennis?”

“Yeah Dee?”

“Do you ever feel like it’s all going too fast?” The words are out of her mouth before she’s had a chance to really think them through and the regret washes over her even faster than the question itself. She prepares herself for the attack, but all she gets is another long drag.

“No such thing as too fast Deandra”

Dee walks up the long driveway, grabs another bottle, sits on her bed and wonders if that is true.


End file.
